said the Marchesino, at once on the alert.

The boat drew in to the quay, and from it there sprang, with much noise
and many gesticulations, two over-dressed women--probably, indeed almost
certainly, _canzonettiste_--and the two large young men, whose brown
fingers and whose chests gleamed with false diamonds. As they passed the
table where the two friends were sitting, the Marchesino raked the women
with his bold gray eyes. One of them was large and artificially blonde,
with a spreading bust, immense hips, a small waist, and a quantity of
pale dyed hair, on which was perched a bright blue hat. The other was
fiercely dark, with masses of coarse black hair, big, blatant eyes that
looked quite black in the dim lamplight, and a figure that suggested a
self-conscious snake. Both were young. They returned the Marchesino's
stare with vigorous impudence as they swung by.

"What sympathetic creatures!" he murmured. "They are two angels.
I believe I have seen one of them at the Margherita. What was her
name--Maria Leoni, I fancy."

He looked enviously at the young men. The arrival of the lobster
distracted his attention for the moment; but it was obvious that the
appearance of these women had increased the feeling of sentimentality
already generated in him by the softness and stillness of the night.

The three musicians, rendered greedy rather than inspired by the
presence of more clients, now began to pluck a lively street tune from
their instruments; and the waiter, whose mustaches seemed if possible
bigger now that night was truly come, poured the white wine into the
glasses with the air of one making a libation.

As the Marchesino ate, he frequently looked towards the party at the
neighboring table. He was evidently filled with envy of the two men
whose jewels glittered as they gesticulated with their big brown hands.
But presently their pleasure and success recalled to him something
which he had momentarily forgotten, the reason why he had planned this
expedition. He was in pursuit. The recollection cheered him up, restored
to him the strength of his manhood, put him right with himself. The envy
and the almost sickly sentimentality vanished from him, and he broke
into the usual gay conversation which seldom failed him, either by day
or night.

It was past nine before they had finished their coffee. The two boatmen
had been regaled and had drunk a bottle of wine, and the moon was rising
and making the oil lamps of the